Starlight Descends - 4

Knuckles

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How was she supposed to explain this was a dog Ye Qingman got as a gift from ex‑boyfriend? Before the breakup, she called it "Husband." After the breakup, it became "Son."

Almost two weeks had passed, and the dog still had zero self-awareness. Stupid dog.

Qi Yao felt a wave of despair. Her hands clenched into fists inside her hanging sleeves. Even her toes curled against the ground.

Yu Jiashu paused for only a second, realizing she should be calling the dog. He looked down and patted the dog’s head.

The German Shepherd, to its credit, finally acknowledged its true lineage. The moment Qi Yao used that name, it bounded over with tail wagging, circled her ankles twice, then boldly grabbed Yu Jiashu’s pant leg and started pulling him away.

Qi Yao was about to intervene when she heard Yu Jiashu give a low laugh, her body froze.

Disarming.

That was her first thought.

The low sound drifted through the air into her ears, threaded with fine static, sending a numb tingle up the back of her neck.

She pressed her lips together, her fingers curled. Was her filter for this man a little too thick? 

“Whoa, holy shit! What’s up with you?” Da Bai blurted out in shock.

Looking up, the buzz-cut guy from last night was twisting tissue into a strip and inserting it up his nostril. His upper lip was red, smeared with blood he hadn’t quite wiped clean.

At her gaze, Zhou Qi turned even redder, flushing all the way to his neck. The same mouth that had been trading barbs five minutes ago was now completely useless. His eyes drifted around awkwardly, he ended up shoving both tissue strips into the same nostril.

Qi Yao: “…”

By now Yu Jiashu had calmed the dog down. The German Shepherd trotted back to Qi Yao and flopped down at her feet, tongue lolling.

What a goof. Just like Ye Qingman.

She watched the dumb dog and grumbled internally.

Yu Jiashu stood up. A faint trace of mint drifted past her.

He held out the leash, his hand with its prominent veins and knuckles gripping the top. The bones of his wrist protruded against the skin. His sleeve slid down slightly, revealing a lean, powerful forearm.

The pale mole on his finger swayed before her eyes.

Qi Yao was silent for a moment before reaching out to take it.

She was very careful, but her fingertips still brushed lightly against his fingers.

Soft, slightly cool, with clear ridges.

Like an ocean she could never reach.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Yu Jiashu hummed nonchalantly, “It’s nothing.” He withdrew his hand, and sat back down. His sleeve fell again, covering the protruding wrist bone.

Qi Yao took one last glance, turned and walked back with the leash.

This is fine, she told herself.

A sentence or two is already more than she’d had in ten years. One should know how to be content.

“Wait, hang on.”

Qi Yao stopped almost instantly and turned around.

No hesitation, so fast it seemed like she'd been waiting for it all along.

Noticing this detail, Yu Jiashu raised an eyebrow, his fingers tapping a loose rhythm against his beer can.

The buzz-cut guy scratched his head and stammered, tissue strips still in his nostrils, his face red enough to drip blood.

“Yao-mei, hello… I'm a really big fan. I’ve liked you for years.”

“It’s true. The kid was watching your drama while we were eating. He buys all your magazines, takes up office space with your merch.” Da Bai chimed in.

Zhou Qi flushed even harder, he was practically stuttering now. “I did all that willingly, no big deal. But could I… could I get an autograph?”

“Of course.” Qi Yao’s eyes dimmed, the bright light in them fading bit by bit. She gave a gentle smile and waited for him to borrow a black marker from the owner.

“Here?” She touched the tip of the marker to his shoulder, surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Zhou Qi nodded shyly. “Paper doesn’t keep well. And it’s not original.”

Qi Yao didn’t argue. She lightly rested her hand on his shoulder, rose on her toes, and carefully signed her name on the white T-shirt.

“Damn, that is pretty.” Da Bai took a long pull of his beer, squinting at the two people. “She’s even better‑looking in person. All fresh and glowing. No wonder she made it big.”

Yu Jiashu idly fiddled with his Bluetooth earbuds, not responding. After a moment, he said, "She looks familiar."

“Yeah, right! Like you’d ever recognise a celebrity. That kid’s been going about her forever, and you never paid any attention.” Da Bai snorted. Seeing Zhou Qi walking back, he craned his neck to see the signature “Let me see, let me see.”

“Back off!” Zhou Qi shielded his shirt and dodged, reverting to his usual irritable little brother self. “You’re not worthy!”

“Hey, you little punk.” Da Bai made a show of rolling up his sleeves.

They started bickering again.

Yu Jiashu tuned them out. He opened a game on his phone, took a sip of water while the loading screen played, and let his gaze drift, casually and absently, to the signature on Zhou Qi’s shoulder.

The handwriting was neat and elegant, stylish yet legible.

Just like her. Gentle and soft, never stepping out of line.

The only unusual thing was the horizontal line beneath her name. It curved at the end, flicked upward, and terminated in a small, deliberate ‘1’.

Probably “71”. 

Yu Jiashu withdrew his gaze. His fingers moved over the screen, guiding his character out of the spawning point.

Then suddenly, like lightning, something flashed at the edge of his mind.

He paused and looked up.

His fingers tapped twice on the table. Thud. Thud. Da Bai and Zhou Qi turned to look at him.

After a moment, he said to the young man in the white T-shirt.

“Let me see that.”

---

When Qi Yao got home, she set up the dog's bed and arranged its food and supplies by the entrance.

The dog had been very well behaved since coming inside, lying on its soft mat and looking up at her with round, imploring eyes. Qi Yao’s irritation dissolved. She scratched its ears, patted its head, and, as a token act of vengeance, decided to call it Lai Fu from now on.

It was another night of chaotic dreams.

The neighbors across the hall seemed to be moving in. In the dead of night, the scrape of furniture being dragged, the elevator doors opening and closing, sounded over and over. It wasn't loud, but her sleep was too shallow.

Amid the jumble of noise, she felt like she was floating midair, carried by some restless current through a fragmented dream.

She was fifteen, small and thin, stepping at the gate of C City No. 1 High for the first time. She stood there for a long time, staring at the crowd surging past her, nervously clutching the hem of her shirt.

The sunlight was blazing, dizzying. Then in a blink, the glare faded into the cold light of a hospital corridor.

She wad sixteen, standing outside a ward. The sharp sting of disinfectant. A flat line on the EKG. The machine beeping. She just stood there blankly, her heart shattered beyond feeling, yet unable to shed a single tear.

Then in another blink, it was the last evening study session before the college entrance exams. She sat in the second-to-last row by the window, writing one final letter stroke by stroke. Shrouded by the dark of the night, she brushed past him and tucked it into the side pocket of his bag.

She was eighteen, standing under moonlight, telling herself: After this, don’t think about him anymore.

Now Qi Yao woke from the dream, staring at the white ceiling, the past two days scrolling behind her eyes.

Him in a white shirt and black pants, holding an iced Americano, turning back as if in response to her call.

Him in a barbecue stall, long legs folded, scratching a dog under the chin. The pale flash of his wrist when his sleeve rode up.

Some things had been buried so well she’d fooled even herself. Until the fuse was lit without warning and fireworks exploded behind her eyes. Brilliant, then nothing but ash.

That last wish of her youth, it seemed, she still hadn't kept it.

The wall clock glowed to 4:00 a.m.

Occasional car horns sounded in the distance, abrupt and brief, quickly pulling her back to reality.

Unable to sleep anymore, she got up and turned on the computer. The screen cast a pale light over her face. 

X-11 Series Endorsement Strategies

Normally, when a brand chooses a spokesperson, there will be a rigorous internal process assessing the brand positioning, market strategy, the artist’s image, compatibility, influence, potential, and risk. The team drafts the candidate shortlist, and senior management makes the final decision.

A spokesperson’s image is tied directly to the brand’s image, the stakes are too high. Most brands are very cautious in their selection, they go through layers of discussion and screening, probably never even put third- or fourth-tier artists outside the candidate list into consideration.

But Fengxing was different.

Qi Yao scrolled through the materials her assistant had sent.

Since its founding, Fengxing had prized innovation above all else. That philosophy bled through every level of the company, and it reflected on how they chose their spokespersons.

For all its product, Fengxing would release only a rough profile, a general image of their ideal spokesperson to the public. Any artist’s team could submit a proposal.

It was like applying for a job, the best portfolio won. Sometimes the artist teams even designed their own promotional plans.

If a small company tried this, they would've failed long ago. Fengxing had the capital to pull it off.

Many A-list stars submitted applications, but even them weren’t guaranteed a callback.

The industry had learned this lesson when Ye Qingman, a twenty-something web drama lead actress, managed to land the AY series.

Tech companies wanted innovation and forward thinking.

So yes, Qi Yao had a chance. Qiu Lang wouldn't have given her this task otherwise.

The chance just wasn’t large.

She curled up in her study chair, knees to her chest, wrapped in a blanket. In the faint light of dawn, she carefully went through Fengxing’s history and their executives' interview videos.

As the clock struck eight, the city stirred awake. Traffic sounds filtered up from the streets below.

Lai Fu had woken up too, scurrying around under her chair.

She filled its bowl with kibble, while it ate, she quickly changed into a white shirt and black pants, pulled a cap over her head, clipped on the leash, and took the dog downstairs to buy breakfast.

The heavy black security door opened quietly, letting in the bustling sounds of the city.

The door across the hall was slightly ajar. People seemed to be chatting in the living room, a few male voices vaguely drift out. Cardboard boxes were scattered near the entrance.

Qi Yao wasn’t one to eavesdrop. She stepped around the boxes, went downstairs to buy a coffee, then stopped by the supermarket to pick up some daily necessities.

Lai Fu walked with aristocratic poise, showing none of the chaotic energy typical of large breeds. Qi Yao’s anxious heart finally settled.

That is, until she pressed the button for the 18th floor, when the elevator doors opened, the scent of grilled meat wafted over. The noble dog finally made a move.

“Hey…!”

Before Qi Yao could react, the leash slipped through her fingers. Lai Fu shot out of the elevator like an arrow, forepaws slamming into the half open door across the hall, disappearing inside.

Leaving behind a dashing silhouette.

And a trailing leash, bouncing wildly in his wake.

Qi Yao: “…”

Day one of the neighbour’s move‑in, and already get invaded by a stranger's dog.

She sighed, pressed the brim of her cap lower, then knocked lightly. “Sorry to bother you…”

The door swung open under her hand.

Inside was a living room in cool grey tones.

Cardboard boxes, most of them empty, scattered across the floor. The place was half unpacked.

A few bottles of liquor sat on the counter of the low coffee table. The conversation stopped at the arrival of the girl and the dog, leaving only the background sound of a video game from the TV.

A man in black‑rimmed glasses stood by the dining table with tongs in his hand. The electric grill sizzled with fat, something was burning, he’d forgotten to flip it.

A buzz-cut guy sat on the sofa, Switch controller in one hand and toothbrush in the other, white foam clung to the corner of his mouth. The second he turned, he froze midmotion.

“…Y‑Yao‑mei?”

As everyone looking at her, the one person who wasn’t became impossible to ignore.

Or perhaps he was simply impossible to ignore regardless.

The man was sitting loosely on the couch, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees. His long, slender fingers moved deftly and casually over the black controller. 

His lashes were lowered. Focused, just like with everything else he did.

On the screen, the boss’s health bar inched downward. Even without teammates, the Shy Spirit King let out one final roar.

He had won.

Yu Jiashu tossed the controller aside, stood up, rolled his neck slightly, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. Only then did he look down and notice the dog rubbing against his feet.

He paused for two seconds, then looked up.

A young woman was standing awkwardly at the doorway. Only her lower face was visible, her lips slightly parted, her peach blossom eyes wide open, looking just as startled as the other two.

Her soft hair was tucked loosely under her cap, a few strands sticking up here and there. Not messy, just lively.

After a moment, the man raised one eyebrow, casual and relaxed.

"What a coincidence. Fancy meeting…"

The clever dog was tugging at his pant leg, its fluffy tail wagging happily.

His gaze dropped, expression slightly amused as he enunciated softly,

"Your husband?”

---

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